


Arasha

by dontknowcats



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 05:00:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4291638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontknowcats/pseuds/dontknowcats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Atheva and Cullen have arrived at Clan Lavellan for the first of their two weddings, but Atheva has a secret she's keeping from Cullen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arasha

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to celebrantsrapacity (on tumblr) for the art and fenxshiral (on tumblr) for the vows!

 

 

  


 

She was nervous.

Well, that was an understatement. Atheva felt like running away from everything the longer she sat on her old bedroll. But… if she felt like this, how did he feel? Alone in a strange place with strangers surrounding him and threatening him if he even stepped the wrong way. It had all been a mistake. She had made a horrible mistake.

A soft “hello” caught her attention and made her turn to look to the entryway of her tent. “Tryla,” she sighed with a relieved smile. “Please tell me you’re here to tell me it’s okay if I run screaming.”

“Afraid not, Atheva. The ceremony’s starting,” the older elf said, thrusting her thumb outside. “Your shem is already waiting for you.” Atheva’s dread must have begun to show. “Don’t worry, da’assan, everything will be fine. You’ve got your mae with you, don’t you? And your father?”

She looked down at her dress and bit her lip. “I suppose,” she breathed, taking the white fabric between her fingers and giving it a slight rub. “Has anyone been hard on him? Because they should know that if they are I’ll-“

“He’s fine, da’len. He’s been respectful to everyone he’s met and has gained respect in return. Don’t doubt him. You’ve found yourself a fine man,” Tryla said with a smile as she helped Atheva to stand. “Now hurry, before he fears you did actually run.”

“He probably already does,” she said with a nervous smile as she lifted the skirt of her dress so she could walk out of the tent. Her hands were quickly smacked away and she looked at the other elf in confusion.

“It looks bad. Makes it obvious someone’s been wearing breeches.”

“Or that they’re not nearly as graceful as they pretend to be,” Atheva muttered as she walked out into the open. She winced in the late afternoon sun, momentarily blinded by the brightness after spending most of the day where the light was mostly blocked. It took a few moments of continuous blinking and shading her eyes to finally spot the gathering of elves a few yards away. Her stomach dropped and she turned to Tryla. “Now can I run?”

“Da’len,” the woman said with a warning tone and wag of the finger. Atheva frowned and nodded before walking towards the ceremony. She toyed with her hands and the hems of her sleeves to keep her mind off of everything that could go wrong in the next couple of minutes. Like falling onto her face and ripping her dress. Or a sudden storm that rained out the ceremony. _Atheva, stop. Everything will be fine. You prayed to Mythal this morning and she must have heard you. She sure heard you at her templ- Oh._

She was snapped from her thoughts when she found the crowd before her splitting down the middle to clear a path for her. At the end stood Cullen, dressed in a plain peasant’s shirt and a borrowed Dalish kilt. His center of balance switched from foot to foot, making it obvious that he wasn’t used to walking around barefoot on uneven terrain like he had been for at least the past hour.

His breath visibly caught in his throat when he saw her, his eyes widening and his cheeks growing pink in color. She was used to his reaction when he saw her in something different than her usual armor and lounging attire at Skyhold, but this time there were tears involved just like she had expected. He reached a hand up to wipe at his eyes and she shot a quick smile his way before making her way towards him.

Each step brought the haunting feeling that her heart was going to explode. Either out of fear or stress or love or joy or all four. Then the return of the urges to run. But not away this time. She wanted to run towards him and jump into his arms, be able to kiss him and get it all over with. She just wanted him to be hers, and her to be his.

“You look amazing,” he breathed once she was in front of him, still wiping at his tears.

“This old thing? Just my mother’s,” she said with a small smile and shrug before taking a purposeful look down at his kilt. “What about you?” She teased. It had been fun watching him try the kilt on again and again while one of the older women continued to try and make it large enough to fit him.

Atheva was silenced by the arrival of the Keeper and made sure to stand up straight. “Keeper Deshanna,” she said with a polite nod to the older woman. When Cullen didn’t do the same, she nudged his leg with her foot.

“Oh! Ah, Keeper Deshanna,” he said, giving the woman a polite nod as well. It was obvious the man was nervous. He had gone through only a few days of learning his vows and everything. Such a short time to learn any elvish was difficult, but he had been made to memorize his with very little help.

No one had been very welcoming when they first arrived and Atheva announced that they were going to be married. Not even her friends. But after the first day they had seen how respectful he was of their dying culture, how eager he was to learn. Cullen had made a good first impression and the clan was hesitantly welcoming his questions and concerns of his future life with her (all of which were unfounded and dismissed). Yet everyone was still wary of the two and Atheva hadn’t the heart to tell him why.

“Lethallan, Commander,” Deshanna replied with a returned nod. “Mythal, please watch over these two in their time together, no matter what tests they face. May Andruil keep your table and stomachs full and your bodies warm. May Falon’Din guide you two to peace and happiness together when the time comes.  And may Fen’Harel never catch your scent.”

A quick glance to Cullen showed his confusion at the short blessing and the blunt tone that it was spoken in. But he held his hands out in preparation for the handfasting and Atheva did the same. He glanced upward as the ribbon was wrapped and tied around their wrists, trying to remember his vows. Lucky for him, she was to go first.

Atheva gripped his hands tightly and smiled up at him before beginning. “Ara lethallin, lasan ara'lan sul saota. Lasan ara'sal, sule ha'lam'sal'shiral. Telas ema em, ar giran ara'lan; Y la'var nuvenir, sul'eman emma asahn sul'ema. Telas raja em, ame lan'revas, Y jusul'anan na i'viren isalas I thai juem on'el rodhe, garal o emma da'lav.

“Ara dir'vhen'an: Ma juveremas sael'prear or emma dil, Sael davathe or emma hyn. Sasha mar melin julahnan fra nydha, Sasha mar inan juithan fra dhea. Juame mar shalasha, la ane emma. Telam'aven judirtha or em'an; Var vas druast i'em'an, i alinen tel'juhartha ebalasha. Juleanathan i myathan na ove min'sal'shiral, i su uth'then'era.” She could feel tears threaten to fall as he squeezed her hands in return.

“Ara lethallan, lasan ara’lan sul saota. Lasan ara’sal, sule ha’lam’sal’shiral.” He took a deep breath, happy he was able to recite the first two lines perfectly. “Telas ema um-“ A snicker from the crowd and he bit his lip, trying to figure out what he had gotten wrong. “E-Em… ar giran ara’len.. Y la’ver-“ Another snicker from the crowd.

His cheeks burned and he shook his head. “I’m not very good at reciting a language I just learned, so maybe… I can just recite it in common language?” He offered nervously to the Keeper. She looked to Atheva, who nodded eagerly.

“Of course.”

“My Atheva, I give you myself to make one from two. I give you my soul, until the end of life’s journey. You cannot have me, I own myself; but while we wish, I give what is mine to give. You cannot command me, I am a free person; but I shall serve you in the ways you need and the fruit shall taste sweet, coming from my hand.

“My promise: You shall have the first cut of my meat, the first sip of my wine. Only your name shall I cry during the night, only your eyes shall I see in the morning. I shall be your armor, as you are mine. No bad words shall be spoken of us. Our bond is sacred with us, and others shall not hear my grief. I shall worship and praise you through this life, and into uth… uth’then… era.”

Atheva was unable to reach up and wipe away her tears due to the ribbon holding her and Cullen’s hands together and instead turned to the Keeper to hide her embarrassment from the crowd full of her friends.

Deshanna reached forward and placed her hand 

on the couple’s hands, but stayed quiet. Atheva had been to enough weddings for her clan members that she knew this was when the two were told to complete their bond and kiss. It wasn’t surprising that they weren’t being told to do so. “Congratulations on your union,” the Keeper said as she untied the ribbon. “Harellan… You do not need to hear the speech. You have tainted our kind enough, it is time for you to leave.”

The look of disappointment was almost too much for Atheva to bear and she nodded. “Ma serannas, Keeper Deshanna. Dareth shiral,” she breathed, hoping to keep herself from crying. She gripped Cullen’s hand and pulled him away from the gathered crowd towards her tent.

“Atheva? What’s going on?” He asked once they were inside. She shook her head, refusing to answer him as she pulled her mother’s dress up over her head. She wasn’t willing to travel in it, afraid of hurting it or herself. “Atheva!” He had a grip on her arms and turned her around to look at him, showing him her tears.

“It’s nothing,” she whispered. “J-Just a Dalish tradition…”

She watched as Tryla entered the tent behind Cullen and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Commander, you must be very confused,” the woman said softly as he released his new bride to turn and look at the older elf. “Even… being friends with a shem- human… It’s not taken lightly by the Dalish. And the fact that my da’len… That she is marrying you, ready to… breed with you? She’s helping to kill her own race.

“She’s been exiled.”

Cullen’s expression melted from confusion to hurt and shame. “Atheva,” he breathed, attention returning to her, “Why did you want to deal with this? You must have known it would happen if you returned…”

“It doesn’t matter,” she muttered as she began to change into her armor. “Tryla, thank you for explaining to my husband something I didn’t want him to know. Lovely sending-off gift.” She gathered up her bags and bow and quiver. “Will you be traveling like that or should I wait for you to change?” She asked, motioning to Cullen’s attire.

She hadn’t bothered to take her hair down from her bun, nor removed the flowers. She looked flustered and angry, hot tears still falling from her eyes. He released the deep breath he had been holding waiting for her answer and smiled. He took the two steps towards her and cupped her chin in his hand and made her look up. “I’m not going to tell you to leave me,” he murmured, “I’m not going to tell you to stay, either. This is your decision and I won’t be hurt either way.”

“We already said our vows and everything,” she whispered, “I can’t leave you now.”

“If I remember your lessons correctly… There’s supposed to be a kiss, right? To close the circle so we can’t leave or something?”

“Something like that.” He had her smiling by the time he kissed her and she knew she had made the perfect choice.


End file.
